Desperate Times
by Phlybabe
Summary: That's it. It's over. The last is gone. You had your big chance. You blew it....Now what? Follow Behani, a Candidate whose first attempt at Impressing a dragon ends in disaster.
1. Enter Hatching Grounds

She was shaking, trembling from head to foot. Her fists opened and closed, squeezing beads of sweat between her clammy fingers. Before Behani stood thirty-four rocking and twitching Eggs, each much taller than any of the adolescents that stood before them. From her placement in the middle of the throng of female Candidates, she could see that the Egg closest to herself was beginning to crack and she half wished that it would split, but half-prayed that it would not. The blistering Sands under her feet were becoming unbearable, but a desperate fear of what was quivering inside of those jittering ovals was consuming her. Like the twenty-odd other females in her group and the fourty-odd males lingering on the other side of the great Hatching Cavern, Behani could scarcely believe that she – a Holdbred girl with no dowry – could dare Impress one of these Hatchlings of the proud golden queen Murlath.

Suddenly, the crowd simultaneously drew an anticipatory gasp and the Egg Behani had her bright brown eyes on exploded open. A crooning, awkward footed brown dragonet tumbled to the sands, tripped up by his wings and the newness of his legs. As he warbled in pain and longing for his chosen lifemate, four more Eggs split open simultaneously and an array of dragonets swarmed upon the Candidates. A bold young woman before her immediately ran to the aid of a Hatched green, setting the example for two more girls who stood closely to her. Behami wished she had the courage and remained half frozen in place, her eyes wide, and her face pale in spite of the heat of the Hatching Grounds.

"Faranth…" Was that her voice? Or an oath uttered by someone else? For someone who had never seen a dragon up close before, Behani thought she was 'dealing' quite well, as M'tro the Searchrider told her whenever he happened to see her. Still, that didn't stop her shakes, but at least there was no queen Egg on the Sands today…

To her left, another girl was attempting the same daring feat of helping a fallen dragonet to its feet and was mauled in the process. The blue, who she desperately had tried to force Impression on caught her sharply across the chest and stomach with his claws, easily rending through her thin robes and cutting quickly through her skin. She shrieked and fell; her cries calling a squawking green to her aid and – Impression! All around Behani Candidates were meeting their lifemates and wandering in total ecstasy off the Sands with them while she stood dumbly, staring star-struck at the forming bonds all around her.

Almost all of the Eggs had Hatched by now and all around her the crowd of Candidates had dispursed, each meandering across the Grounds to either meet their partner or be disregarded in defeat. Behami was cursing herself inwardly, too captivated by the unique sights and sounds of the Hatching. Only the foolish Candidates, she saw, bore the marks of dragon claws: Most had tried to force Impression on a disgruntled dragonet while the remaining few had been too slow to get out of the way of a charging Hatchling, undoubtedly thinking that it was heading for them and not the person behind them.

Finally, with a brown scuttling past her, meeting the young man who would ride him, Behami's paralysis lifted. Few Eggs were left unHatched and Behani, despite how inactive she'd been since the start of the event, guessed she still had a reasonably good chance to meet her dragon here and now. She couldn't quite understand why she had been so stubbornly immobile. Had she really been so terrified? Or just so confounded by her not-so-unique situation? Shaking the last reminents of fear and doubt from her mind, Behani settled herself for victory – or, most likely, defeat.

Making her way across the grounds, wary of those pairs and unImpressed dragons around her, Behani approached the few remaining rocking eggs. Finally, the last six split almost together and let their contents fumble onto the Sands. A blue cut across her, keening in that piteous sort of way dragonets did when they were valiantly searching for the person whom they were desperate for. Just as he moved passed her, she distinctly heard his delighted and surprised warble; Impression had been made. Two greens were butting each other, each trying to speed past the other. As Behani watched, the larger of the two succeeded in knocking the other down and veered – right toward Behani herself!

And then…her eyes met the most beautiful facets she'd ever seen before. Behani's breath caught in her throat and…the green butted her in the stomach, moving her out of the way for the girl half-cowering behind her. The second green was immediately consoled by a lad in the vicinity. Two blues quickly Impressed while a third green sped off towards the small throng of Healers who were tending to a deep gouge mark a young woman had received. The last dragonet, a brown, sat stoically on his rump until a scrawny youth who looked barely old enough to Stand rushed to him, hugging him and begging quite audibly that Luthith should come along and get some food. With that final Impression, the Hatching ended with Murlath and her bronze mate Zorith trumpeting happily, for no dragonet had fled between without a partner and no Egg was left unHatched. The straggler pairs were helped off the Sands by blue and green riders while the other Candidates who had not been chosen were rounded up by the Candidate Master and escorted back to their barracks...


	2. Failure! Back to the Barracks

She felt mildly ill. It had been almost ten minutes since the Hatchings end and Behani still had a serious case of the shakes. Bir'len the Candidate Master had done all he could to console those other Candidates who failed to Impress. He grouped the boys and girls separately and gave them each group a pep talk that he felt fitting for the differences in gender.

"Now ladies, there's really no need to sob and sigh," He said gently to the group of thirteen girls who had failed to meet their lifemates. "There'll be another Clutch here on the Sands soon, you know, and none of you are near the age cut off!"

The portly old blue rider smiled in a way that he must have considered charming and opened his wide, slack mouth again, "Who knows! Yilith might Clutch gold and then you'll have your chances to really shine!"

Behani couldn't stand the pompous old lecher. He was one of those hidebound dragonriders who thought women were good for only two things: riding gold and making love. How he had retained his authority over the Candidates was beyond her. Really, Behani thought, staring into his cold brown eyes that always seemed to look at everyone and no one all at the same time, he should have been sent to the fighting wings after he singlehandedly impregnated three of the girls scheduled to Stand at Murlath's Hatching.

"Now, I know some of you are feeling rather down, but this is the best time to find new friends, make new acquaintances. I suggest all of you attend the Feast to get your minds off things. I'm sure everyone'll find a handsome lad to dance with once the Harpers start their jigs," Bir'len pressed, grinning in a way he must have considered boyish and playful. Behani nearly threw up in her mouth.

"However," His tone suddenly turned serious, "I do not recommend you girls drink too much. We all don't want to have another Mirada incident."

Finally, his words seemed to have impact on the depressed and dejected group of girls. Mirada had drowned herself in the Weyr Lake after failing to Impress the fourth time in a row a Turn and a half before Behani arrived at Igen Weyr. Behani had heard a nasty rumor that Bir'len had talked the heavily intoxicated girl into killing herself and an even nastier one that he'd actually done it. As much as something so horrible about the man wouldn't surprise Behani, she honestly couldn't see the fat Candidate Master performing such a physically tasking job as drowning someone.

_Please, girl…Do not think so coldly of my rider._

The brown haired girl felt a tremendous shudder that had nothing to do with her failure on the Hatching Grounds. Was that Varlimeth?! He hardly ever moved from his weyr unless Bir'len needed him for a demonstration. How could he have possibly heard her?

_You think very loudly._

Sitting rigidly in her chair, she stared down the blue rider in front of her. Had Varlimeth told him what she was thinking? Oh, Faranth, what if the rumors were true?!

_They are not. The girl died regrettably, but perhaps she did have it coming to her._

_**Stay out of my head!**_ Behani roared mentally, throwing all of her consciousness into warding off Varlimeth's invasion. Something closed in her mind with a snap! and there was a sudden vacancy in her brain that she hadn't noticed was there until its space had been unoccupied again. By Faranth…What was wrong with her? How did Varlimeth get into her head?! Her eyes darted around fretfully, glancing from sobbing to stoic to completely dumbfounded girls all around her. Had anyone else had a non-verbal exchange with Bir'len's dragon? No…it didn't seem like it…

"Ah…" The soft uncomfortable sound escaped her before she could stop it and Bir'len turned to her with a patronizing gaze.

"Something to add, Behani? Or may I continue? These girls need help right now and if you're going to be insensitive enough to interrupt me, you're more callous than I thought you were," The sharpness and superiority in his voice shocked Behani more than Varlimeth had.

'Shards, he's a jerk,' Behani thought, an eyebrow half raised in his direction. What was that all about? Her mind turned over dozes of memories, hundreds of interactions between herself and the Candidate Master. Nothing stood out to her that would have given him reason to lash out at her so suddenly. Perhaps Varlimeth had said something…

"No, sir, I've got nothing to say," She managed, forcing a smile onto her face.

"In that case, you are dismissed. You are obviously in such a state of shock that you probably don't even realize what's going on here," Bir'len said, with a fake smile and with irritating false sympathy.

"You should retire to you room, now. I'll send someone along to check on you later."

She knew she was dismissed. As she stood, she was perturbed to see that all eyes in the room were on her, glaring at her like she was some sort of mutated wher-runnerbeast mix. It was ironic that Bir'len could turn each and every one of the girls against each other in a heartbeat, but could not capture one single heart throb for himself. Shaking her head, she headed for her room and shut the door behind her as quietly as she could.


	3. Speculation and Consolation

She would admit it; she was hungry. Behani had been lying in her bed for quite some time now, first listening to the soft murmurings and occasional loud bellows of Bir'len as he attempted to "cheer up" the rest of the female Candidates. Eventually, though, she heard his voice ebb away and the scrapes of chairs on the stone floor as girls dismissed themselves. Foot steps down the hall and the soft thuds of doors closing told her that some girls went to their rooms. The silence that followed or the second round of quick scurrying feet told Behani that the rest of the girls either cried themselves to sleep or had decided that joining the Hatching Feast was a good idea.

And how could it not be? Behani had barely even touched her lunch, for the Weyr was buzzing with anticipation: That morning Electa, Murlath's rider, had informed the breakfast diners that the Clutch should be Hatching that day. From then on, Behani was pulled to and fro, up and down, and side to side getting things ready, getting in touch with her family, ensuring that her robes still fit properly. But now that that was all over…

Behani's stomach groaned piteously and she sighed, closing her eyes, weary of staring at the ceiling. If she were going to leave, she should do it now. The young woman got up and, glancing at the vacant beds in her room, she sighed. Three out of four Impressed here. Behani's depression was back suddenly and with a vengeance. As swiftly as she had stood up, she flopped back down, curling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. Her father was right. She was a failure. A blood traitor.

"_Behani, we're done for the day. The rest of this work can be left for your brothers," Berined, her father, told her sharply. _

_Behani, for the first time in hours, looked up from her task of separating chaff from wheat they had recently harvested. She was dirty from head to toe with dust and particulates. It had been windy and her hair was in complete disarray, but at least she looked no different from any of the other women Berined had assigned to do this all important task._

_She was a farmer. They all were. Her mother had inherited their small Hold at a young age when her grandfather had died swiftly of a lung disease, but her mother was not versed in the ways of maintaining the huge expanse of lands and peoples left under her care. She had quickly married Berined, her father's best hand. Despite all their toils and all of their work, Zorik Hold was poor and getting poorer. The dragonmen required tithes, but they barely produced enough harvest to sustain themselves…_

A loud banging on her door brought her to the present and Behani quickly moved to cover herself, for she had shed her white robes the instant she was in privacy.

"Behani? It's me…Rula," As if Behani could forget the voice of her friend.

"Come in!"

The words were barely out of the young woman's mouth when the door opened up and a thin, almost frail-looking blonde youth scurried into her room. Behani, in spite of her lapse into self-pity, smiled at the site of her. Rula's too big eyes seemed to bulge right out of her face and, even in her darkest of moods, she had an air of everlasting surprise.

"So, how are you? Feeling better? Bir'len really came down on you, huh?" Rula asked, peering intently at the other Candidate. Whether she was truly concerned about Behani's well being or had merely come to see if Behani would have been – or could have been – reduced to tears was hard to tell; Rula was sly and cunning like that.

"Doing just fine, aside from the obvious, but what else can you expect from Bir'len?" The older girl said, pleased that she had managed to keep her voice as off-handed and unconcerned as the situation allowed. "I still can't believe how I just _stood _there, you know?"

Rula's eyes lowered slightly and, for once, she didn't look as self-righteous as she always was. Almost smugly, Behani guessed that the same sorts of thoughts were running through her head as well.

"Yes, I—" Rula paused, biting her lip, "It was rather intimidating, wasn't it? Bir'len never said…I mean, he hardly discussed…"

There, Rula has a point, Behani thought. Bir'len mentioned the Hatching only passively, when someone specifically pressed him for details. Even at that, the most he ever said was that it was a whole lot of standing and waiting and that they were generally short. What he had never thought to tell them was how terrifying it was, how alone they would feel, battling their own fears as well as trying to, somehow, make themselves as noticeable as possible once the Eggs started Hatching.

"I don't know why Tarali and C'lous still keep him around," Behani said quietly, reaching out to pat Rula on her shoulder, pretending that she hadn't seen how her eyes suddenly shown with an excess of moisture. Thinking back, Behani remembered the girl standing, eyes wide in terror, as Eggs shattered all around her; it was almost no wonder that she hadn't Impressed…

"Well, at least we have some experience for next time. I'sim told me that Yilith was looking, well, brighter than usual. He was sure that she'll be up within the sevenday," Rula responded briskly, shaking herself lightly, any trace of unshed tears gone from her face.

"P'mit said the same thing. He said that since we'll be in a Pass soon, the golds will be Rising more frequently…and with bigger numbers. And we're wing-light, so maybe Yilith's Clutch'll be huge," The brown-eyed girl replied, standing up and heading for her trunk. Her stomach was beginning to growl more insistently now. Dressing wouldn't take long and she could invite Rula to the Feast.

"Yes, and with…Nemfloth and Willa gone, we're short on queens," Behani was surprised to hear now unhappy Rula was to mention the demise of the old Senior pair a Turn ago. Personally, Behani was glad the two were gone: Nemfloth notoriously gorged herself on the Feeding Grounds before her mating Flights. The old Senior Weyrleader, Z'mik, could not control his Weyrwomen and was just as clueless a leader as Willa was.

"Indeed. Come, dear, are you hungry? It's not good for us to starve ourselves. A wonderful meal will cheer us up right and so will a good night's rest. Tomorrow, I'm sure, we'll be up early helping the Weyrlings with their first day as riders," Behani said purposefully, dressing in her Gather's best and gently tweaking the collar of her tunic so that it sat straighter on her head.

Rula nodded and stood, quietly following Behani's lead out the door and towards the Great Hall for dinner.


	4. A Decision Has to be Made

"Oh, C'lous, what are we going to do about him?" Senior Weyrwoman of Igen Weyr asked her Weyrleader, who was standing at her shoulder, peering with her into the Infirmary.

"With who? Young J'ral in there?" C'lous asked, his light blue eyes reflecting both mischievousness and weariness. At the coldness of Electa's glare, his eyes softened and his face drooped into a more reserved expression.

"I don't know, Electa. He undermines the authority of the Wingleaders when he's with the fighting Wings, particularly under F'lis and S'vix," The Weyrleader continued, tiredly rubbing his forehead, content that J'ral's wounds were superficial enough not to need their oversight.

"And why is that? F'lis and S'vix are excellent Wingleaders. During all of our drills they perform spectacularly. Why, by Faranth, they helped us win the Spring Games two Turns in a row!" Electa spat, impatiently, folding her arms over her chest as she tore her concerned face away from J'ral to look at her mate.

"Because F'lis is young enough to be Bir'len's son and S'vix has a female bluerider as a Second," C'lous said with a shrug, turning away from the Infirmary. When Electa didn't follow, he paused jerking his head towards the Hall.

"No, we'll stay for a few more minutes. Murlath has told me that the boy still requires some attention – attention he wouldn't have needed if that dratted wherry-head had properly briefed those Candidates on how they _cannot force Impression!_" Electa finished in a near shriek of outrage. Even from their position in the Weyr, they could plainly hear half the Weyr's bronzes and all the queens trumpet their senior Weyrwoman's dissatisfaction.

"Oh, come on now, love, no need to startle the guests," C'lous began gently, resting his hands on the furious woman's shoulders, stroking her arms in the next moment. She was soothed, but only enough not to set the Weyr's dragons in another uproar.

"You find something else to do with him, C'lous, I mean it. _Three_ girls off the rosters because they were with child! Even old _Z'mik_ saw that green nearly _between_. If it hadn't been for all those lads we had, she might have!" Electra growled, extracting herself from her weyrmate's embrace to fidget with her hair to prevent herself from lashing out physically. "And we had six casualties! One girl is in critical condition and poor Limarden is _dead_ because Bir'len is too self-absorbed and lazy to actually teach those kids."

The Weyrleader winced at the report and sighed. Bir'len was becoming more of a problem every single Turn and it hadn't always been that way. He had been an excellent Wingsecond in his day, but when he had been replaced for causing an accident that cost the lives of a rider pair he'd been replaced. The demotion had humiliated the man and sent him into a vicious depression. He always thought someone was out to get him, that someone was conspiring behind his back, trying to, somehow, get him and his blue Varlimeth killed. It didn't help that he took criticism personably and refused any kind of help. He shirked his duties, blamed his faults on other riders and those he was in charge of, and was exceedingly arrogant. From how Bir'len came across in C'lous's meetings with his Masters, he got the impression that Bir'len had no respect for him and would, if he could, undermine him at every opportunity.

"Doesn't Igen Hold need a new watchrider? H'clim is going blind, you know, and Jrenith is nearly the same. Perhaps H'clim could train them and then we could retire those two permanently," C'lous suggested, desperately.

Electa gave him a hard, cold look, as though she hated the thought of him anywhere near Holders, but was faced with no other alternative.

"Do it. Immediately. I want weekly reports on Bir'len's progress and training, C'lous," She said so threateningly that C'lous considered his position as Weyrleader in more jeopardy than it had ever have been in the four Turns Lomoth had consecutively Flown Murlath.

"You have my word, Weyrwoman," C'lous said, understand completely for the first time why she now rode the senior queen.

"I'll be along to the Feast shortly, 'Lous. Yvani should be along shortly with status updates," Electa turned from her Weyrleader to glare into the Infirmary once more. "Murlath has told me that Climith has finally fallen asleep, so J'ral must have settled down."

C'lous strode down the empty hallway alone, hoping that Electa's wrath was burnt out. At least she sounded more resigned. As for Bir'len, he could wait until tomorrow. Knowing the blue rider, he was apt to make a large scene in front of the gathered Holders and Crafters invited to the Weyr for the Hatching, as unTraditional as the custom was.


End file.
